


The visitor

by queen_ypolita



Category: Purposes of Love - Renault
Genre: 100-1000 Words, Challenge Response, Depression, Gen, Ghosts, making use of poetry, spooky Halloween stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-29
Updated: 2009-10-29
Packaged: 2017-10-05 23:57:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_ypolita/pseuds/queen_ypolita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Depressed Vivian receives a surprise visitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The visitor

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/maryrenaultfics/profile)[**maryrenaultfics**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/maryrenaultfics/) 2009 Spooky Story Event. The section headings are from poem vii in Tennyson's _In Memoriam A.H.H._ sequence. Betaed by [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/trueriver/profile)[**trueriver**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/trueriver/). Originally posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/maryrenaultfics/314934.html) at [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/maryrenaultfics/profile)[**maryrenaultfics**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/maryrenaultfics/).

**Dark house**

Vivian spotted at least three cobwebs in the sitting room in the harsh morning light when she came in to find the book she thought she had left on the coffee table last night. She knew she should do something about the house: dust was gathering everywhere, all flat surfaces were covered with an assortment of tea cups, ash trays, newspapers, empty envelopes, and breadcrumbs. When he left on Sunday evening, Mic had suggested getting a woman to help her to keep the house until she felt better but she hadn't wanted anyone intruding on her space. She supposed she should make an effort today as Mic was coming home for the weekend. But first she needed a cup of tea. She abandoned her book search and made for the kitchen.

**Where my heart used to beat so quickly**

Despite the chaos that reigned in the kitchen too, she found that it still filled her with feelings of warmth. She had never seen herself as the homely type, but she had loved the kitchen in the house from the moment she saw it. They had moved into the house with high hopes a couple of months after getting married, signed a long lease, bought furniture that made the house look like theirs, made plans to turn the other bedroom into a nursery, dreamed of days when Mic would set out to walk to work and she and the child would wave him good-bye. She had fallen pregnant soon after they moved in and Mic was overjoyed, thinking of names and making plans for the child.

But then things had gone wrong. She miscarried two days before Mic came home with news of promotion which meant a transfer to a different unit. It was a promotion you couldn't say no to, but the other unit was too far away for a daily commute, and they weren't in a position to move closer. During the week Mic stayed in lodgings and came home to her at the weekends. She hadn't been able to imagine how bereft she would feel without him, and in her inability to pull herself together after the loss of the baby, she had let things slide in the house. And with herself. If she didn't need to go out to get the newspapers and bread (at least the milkman delivered), she would have gladly stayed in her dressing-gown all day. The women from the nearby houses had, one by one, knocked on the door and offered their help when they'd learnt about her troubles, but she had sent all of them away.

**Like a guilty thing I creep**

She couldn't help thinking it was somehow her fault she had lost the baby. Mic had reassured her, several times, that he didn't believe for a moment it had anything to do with her, that he didn't blame her for anything, that these things just happened and if they started trying again, they'd soon have a new baby on the way. But as days went by, it seemed harder and harder to snap out of her dark mood. When Mic was at home, she always made an effort to make him talk about his week, to avoid thinking about the emptiness of hers. She missed him so much it hurt. She returned to the sitting room with her cup of tea and sat down on the sofa, putting her feet up on the coffee table. If only Mic was here.

**He is not here**

"Isn't it high time you snapped out of this morbid mood? All this 'he's not here'? He's not dead, just away. And he'll be back tonight."

The voice had made her jump; she looked up and saw Jan sitting in the armchair by the fireplace. But it couldn't be Jan, he was dead and buried. She blinked.

"He'll be back. But if you don't snap out of this, one day he'll leave." It was Jan, just as he had been. Grateful for having someone to talk to, she decided to ignore the impossibility of Jan being here, in her house, sitting in her armchair.

"Don't say that. I couldn't live without him."

"Yes you could, and would. And it doesn't have to come to that."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I know you, and I know him. You're good for him, but not like this."

"I know."

"So you'll try to put this behind you? I mean, it will be part of you, and what you and he have lived through, but it's time you stopped being unable to see beyond it. Life goes on. You can have other children who will live in this house and fill it with noise and go out and play with the children from next door."

"Oh, Jan, why did you have to die?"

"It was time." He paused. "Don't forget, things can get better if you let them."

That said, he disappeared. Vivian blinked, but he was gone without a trace.

Putting her teacup down, she started sorting the debris on the coffee table. For the first time in weeks, the ordinary noises from the street, children shouting, dogs barking and women conversing while scrubbing the front step, made her smile.


End file.
